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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23193928">After the Fall</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingBlue42/pseuds/SomethingBlue42'>SomethingBlue42</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, Hair-pulling, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgy, Riding, Threesome (sort of), Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:33:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,355</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23193928</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingBlue42/pseuds/SomethingBlue42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The juxtaposition from the act he'd completed with the girl and what was happening now was not lost on Castiel. His power was in bringing pleasure to others, giving respite from a chaotic world where they had no control. He made love to his girls, but it made sense that he got fucked by Dean. Dean found pleasure in control, in domination, but he also found pleasure in Castiel's consent, that an unearthly being that once had the ability to move the cosmos relented to be used this way by him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel &amp; Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural)/Original Female Character(s), Castiel/Dean Winchester, Endverse Castiel &amp; Endverse Dean Winchester, Endverse Castiel/Endverse Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>After the Fall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>       Castiel rarely spent time contemplating how far he'd fallen anymore. It was all he could focus on in the beginning, after the angels had left, and his power began to wane. It was small things at first; angel radio turning to static, the prayer chain going silent, then bigger. His wings had been a blow, but when he lost the ability to bend time, their only hope to potentially turn things around, Dean's disappointment had been so palpable that he refused to even look at Castiel for days.</p><p>       That was the first time he'd lain with a woman. She was a waif of a girl who still wore a cross around her neck, and despite Castiel's grace diminishing by the day looked at him like he still had wings and his halo was gold instead of tinfoil. They'd fumbled past their virginities with very little fanfare, a short burst of pleasure for him, pain for her, but in the heady afterglow blue eyes met green and he'd loved her, so fiercely and deeply it left him awed.</p><p>       She was mortally wounded in an ambush mere days later, his hands pressing to the gaping hole in her chest pushing hard at the little nugget of grace that remained, but it seemed that his ability to heal had been replaced by the useless ability to cry. She died under his hands, choking on blood with scared eyes and wet cheeks. Dean had to cold clock him to get him to stop screaming. When he'd come to, alone in Dean's cabin, he'd reached for the whiskey bottle on the bedside table in desperation, the first time he'd ever actually <em>needed </em>a drink.</p><p>       He brought the bottle to his lips then. The moonshine tasted more like drain cleaner than anything else, but it was all they had now. He passed the bottle to the woman on his left, and she drank, ungrimacing before passing to the next and reaching for the hem of her dress, disrobing to bare skin with a single motion. Castiel watched the next five girls perform the same vanishing act, the different body shapes, and sizes, leading to a sense of wonder and awe that could only be produced by mind-altering substances.</p><p>       They descended on him, hands reaching for the snaps on his chambray shirt, the button of his jeans. One kneeled before him, slipping off his sandals as another threaded her hands back into his hair to kiss him deeply. He felt a wet mouth envelop him as a tongue parted his lips, entering him as he entered another, and he felt electricity spark along his skin. He could hear heavy breath, feel it against the skin of his thigh, his ribs, his shoulder blade.</p><p>       Castiel wasn't sure how he ended up on the bed, his head resting back against soft breasts, his shoulders against the warm skin of a belly as thighs hugged his ribs. Arms circled his shoulders, a hand nestling itself in his hair, nails scratching lightly just he way he liked making him arch. Hands on his thighs, lips below his belly button, and when he looked down wet lips puckered at the tip of his dick, green eyes holding his in wonton lust. His body tensed.</p><p>       A sharp snap of his fingers led to the repositioning of bodies. He rolled over onto his stomach, ignoring the heady sensation of rough cotton against his sensitive flesh and captured a nipple between his teeth. The girl who'd been holding him cried out, her hips pushing forward involuntarily as her hands buried deep in his hair. He allowed her to maneuver him down, his tongue leaving a wet trail down her stomach before he nuzzled his nose into the soft down between her legs.</p><p>       Hands ran up his back and sides, soft touches, the light scrape of nails, and he reveled in the goosebumps that broke out over his skin as he brought up a hand to part the folds before him, exposing wet, pink flesh to his insistent tongue. This was the only power he held now. The power to provide pleasure, respite from the hell in which they lived. These girls were not fighters, too soft, or uncoordinated to learn combat. Castiel wanted them to know they were not useless; their existence was not futile; they were there for a higher purpose. He could give them that.</p><p>       The room was filled with sounds of pleasure now, breathy moans, and the slick sound of wet flesh against wet flesh. The thighs around his head trembled, and he barely realized the girl was coming, his fingers caught in the vice of her inner muscles. He curled them, and her high keening became shouts, his mouth flooded with her pleasure dripping onto the sheets beneath them. He pressed kisses to her inner thighs as she came down, pulling himself onto his knees.</p><p> Movement from the corner of his eye drew his attention, and he felt momentarily frozen at the sight of Dean leaning in his doorway. The man's arms were folded across his chest, face situated into that hard, narrow-eyed look that had become his regular expression since Sam said yes to the devil. The other girls had paired off, bodies entwined on the pillows and mats around his bed, either unaware of their leader's watchful gaze or uninterested in it. These girls feared Dean, only went to him upon direct request and even then sometimes needed a pep talk from Castiel before going.</p><p>       Castiel turned back to the task at hand, cupping the girl's face when he found she had followed his gaze, her light eyes apprehensive of their guest. Castiel kissed her, coaxing her focus back to him with light nips of his teeth and long swipes of his tongue. He bid her move, taking her place against his pillows and settled on his back, his hardness laying back against his stomach. She kneeled next to him, waiting for him to get comfortable, and when his hands came up, she reached so that her palms aligned with his, fingers curling around as she swung one leg over his hips.</p><p>He tried to ignore the movement from the corner of his eye, Dean pushing himself off the doorframe to step into the room, his boots thudding against the wood floor with each heavy step.       Castiel’s eyes held the girl's, his fingers tightening around hers so that she didn't lose focus, her hips coming down to press her wet heat against him, trapping him against his lower belly. His chest rumbled, pressing his shoulder blades back against the pillows and his hips up into her.</p><p>She remained still, her eyes moving from Castiel's to above him, and Castiel was momentarily distracted by the hand that laid to rest on top of his head. His eyes darted up, and Dean was there next to the bed, expression unreadable to anyone else but him. Castiel's eyelids fluttered as Dean's fingers carded lightly through his hair once before settling at his crown, and Castiel accepted the minuscule dip of Dean’s head before his eyes fell on the girl again.</p><p>       A soft hiss through Castiel’s teeth and a squeeze of his hands brought her eyes back to his, wide now with something like fear, but she trusted him. He felt a small shock of surprise at that, the idea that she would have been afraid, but because he was here with her, she was not. Castiel couldn't protect her, not really and especially not against Dean, but the fact that she believed it moved something inside of him that hadn't stirred since the last of his grace had left him.</p><p>       Castiel situated his shoulders again, squeezing at her hands with encouragement, nodding at her to begin. She slid forward, the tip of him catching at her entrance, and he let his head fall back as she took him in, the sensation familiar, but no matter how many times he experienced it, he would never not be awed by it. Dean's hand resettled against his head, dull nails rubbing against his scalp, and Castiel’s breathing hitched, a low rumble sounding in his chest.</p><p>       The girl moved, her hips rolling against him first experimentally then tentative her eyes flicking to Dean and though Castiel wasn't looking at him, he knew Dean was watching her, mouth set and chin tipped up in a way that gave the impression he was appraising her. Castiel loosed a hand from hers, never breaking eye contact as he raised it over his head and felt the back of his fingers brush against the leather of Dean's belt at his hip. The ghost of a touch was enough to make Dean shift from foot to foot and look down at Castiel. Castiel knew this because he felt Dean card his fingers back through his hair again.</p><p>       Castiel fought the flutter of his eyelids this time, holding the girl's gaze as his free hand fell to her hip, applying pressure. She seemed to relax then, settling into a steady rhythm that had them breathing hard within moments. She was good this one, beautiful and lithe, her hips rolling against his steady, movement speeding or slowing with a twitch of his hips or pressure from his hand. Dean's hand remained a constant weight against his crown, fingers massaging his scalp in rhythmic swirls that matched her pace. Castiel knew Dean's eyes were on her, but he wasn't sure if she did, her focus entirely on Castiel now, here for his pleasure and only his. This was his power as well, he found now, his ability to inspire trust without fear, to make love where there was only war.</p><p>       He felt Dean shift next to him, and it was then that he realized he'd been tuning out the rest of the room, high pitched keening, and cries from the other girls around them indicating that their session was reaching its climax, as were they. Castiel looked around; heads tipped back in pleasure as hips moved quickly, fingers and hands blurred with movement between legs. Castiel swallowed hard as he refocused on the task at hand, the girl's eyes closed now, her own head tipped back. She disentangled her fingers from his, reaching to hold her breast, rolling the nipple hard beneath her thumb as her other covered the hand that held her hip.</p><p>       Castiel urged her faster, feeling his lower belly begin to tighten, pleasure unfurling out to his extremities as his release built. Dean's hand in his hair tightened infinitesimally, and the low gravel of his voice stood out starkly among the feminine cries.</p><p>       "No.”</p><p>       Castiel grit his teeth, hand gripping tighter at the girl's hip as if he could physically grab hold of his orgasm and restrain it. He could feel her inner muscles beginning to ripple in a pre-orgasmic shudder that made the hair on his legs stand on end, pleasure trembling along his skin, and for a moment he wasn't sure he was going to be able to do it.</p><p>       A tug, sharp and quick, hard enough to shock seared along his scalp, and Castiel's hand slid from her hip, four fingers splaying across her lower belly as his thumb nestled between her folds to wiggle the rough pad of his finger against the small ball of nerves there. Her shout rang out in the now relative quiet of the room, the other girls panting heavily as they watched, tongues wetting lips and breath catching in throats. Castiel's other hand curled around her ribs, guiding her through her orgasm, watching her face intently as she shook and shuddered, her hips eventually stilling over him. Soft mewling sounds pulled from her throat as she bowed her head, one hand planting on his chest to support herself while her other covered his hand on her ribs. He was proud of her for not collapsing against him, even in her blissed-out state aware enough to wait for his invitation before seeking intimacy.</p><p>       She lifted her head, hair still covering her face as she shifted her hips, a torturous movement that he gritted his teeth against. She frowned, the hand on his squeezing, and began to lift her hips again, but he shook his head, the weight of Dean's hand moving with it. Her eyes lifted over him then, and her frown deepened, a look of scorn revealed as she pushed her hair from her eyes. Castiel felt a smile tug at his lips. Maybe this one was brave, after all.</p><p>"Thank you.”</p><p>       The low rumble of Castiel's voice drew her attention back to him, his thumb moving to brush the underside of her breast tenderly before he removed it slowly, her hand falling away. She looked at him, confused before he tipped his chin up, indicating that she should move. She gave Dean one more cursory glance before lifting herself from him, his cock still achingly hard, purple at the tip and glistening in the dim candlelight.</p><p>       "Everyone out.”</p><p>       Dean's voice was like a sharp slap in the silent room, fearful gasps ripping through the air punctuated by an involuntary yelp. Castiel watched as a girl covered another's mouth with her hand, their eyes all on Dean now as they slowly rose to their feet. There was a flurry of movement as they helped each other dress, coltish on shaky limbs, causing a surge of affection in Castiel.</p><p>       "You too.”</p><p>       Dean's voice made Castiel aware that the girl in his bed had remained, now kneeling beside him in the supplicant posture he'd taught them all, back straight, palms flat against thighs. Her eyes were on Castiel, ignoring Dean completely. Castiel frowned then. Too brave.</p><p>       "Thank you, that will be all for this evening.“</p><p>       "You're sure?" Her voice was husky, unfamiliar. They so rarely spoke.</p><p>       Dean's hand fell from Castiel’s hair to his shoulder, fingertips digging in hard. "He's sure.”</p><p>       Despite the weight, Castiel managed to sit up on his elbows. "Yes.”</p><p>       Castiel gave her a nod, his eyes a warning, and she hesitated only a moment before relenting, backing off his bed and rounding it to pick up the remaining dress from the floor.</p><p>       They filed out then, the girl he'd shared his bed with last and only she gave them a parting glance, her eyes wary but a simple dip of his head was enough to get her to turn and close the door behind her. Castiel let out a sigh, his head falling back, and though his muscles loosened, none of the tension had left his body. He hadn't realized Dean's hand had left him until his hands were on him again.</p><p>       Rough palms moved up the sensitive skin of Castiel's inner thighs, nudging them further apart so Dean could kneel between them. Castiel opened his mouth to question, but Dean took him in with one succinct movement, throat opening, an impressive amount of tongue moving against his balls. Castiel's elbows gave out, his body breaking out in a sweat as he fell against the pillows, a guttural cry pulling from his throat. It was gone as soon as it came, replaced with Dean's hand, jerking him slow and rough, just painful enough to keep his orgasm at bay.</p><p>       Castiel didn't know what made Dean do this. There was no rhyme or reason, never a hint of a catalyst. Dean would just suddenly be there, under the cloak of darkness or barging in during the bright light of day, hands and mouth insistent but never desperate. Castiel didn't mind, wanted it more often in fact, the minuscule speck of grace left in him calling out for Dean's soul as if their profound bond had never been broken. There was no one left among them now that knew them then.</p><p>       Castiel hissed as slick fingers brushed his entrance, and Castiel bit back the instruction to warm the lube first. Castiel felt his stomach tremble, rough fingertips circling his hole, slicking it thoroughly before even attempting to breach him. No one would ever believe that Dean was this gentle.</p><p>       Dean worked him open slowly, taking his time and dipping his head every once in a while to mouth at Castiel's cock. Castiel let Dean work him up to dizzying pleasure, one finger dragging in and out, circling his hole, teasing it before pushing back in again. When he added another finger, he reached farther, scissoring gently before dragging against Castiel's prostate. Castiel cried out, hips bucking, and Dean sucked the tip of Castiel into his mouth, tonguing the slit before releasing him again.</p><p>       Castiel was a pile of quivering sweaty limbs by the time Dean had coaxed a third finger in and began to fuck him steady, alternating between rolling his balls and giving firm, slow strokes to Castiel's length with his other hand.</p><p>       "Dean...” Castiel's voice was all rumble and barely any sound. "Dean, please.” He swallowed on a dry throat, panting hard against cracked lips.</p><p>       Dean sat back then, fingers slipping out wetly, and he wiped them unceremoniously on Castiel's sheets before shrugging out of his jacket. The jingle of Dean's belt buckle made Castiel's cock twitch, a movement that didn't go unnoticed by Dean, his fingers slowing as he undid the button of his jeans. Pants pushed to the floor with nothing underneath - underwear was just another scarcity, so no one really bothered anymore - and Dean crawled forward on the bed, pants around his ankles, giving himself a slow stroke.</p><p>       Castiel grabbed at the lapels of his flannel, pulling Dean closer as the other man reached onto the bed for the bottle of lube, the origin of which Castiel wasn't entirely sure. Castiel hooked his ankles around the backs of Dean's thighs, swallowing hard as Dean slicked himself up, but his hand moved between Castiel's cheeks again, prodding and pushing, making Castiel squirm.</p><p>       Castiel waited, feeling the smooth head of Dean's cock rub his entrance, watching the other man's head lower, lips pressed tightly together against the sensation. Castiel breathed against the push, skin breaking out in gooseflesh as the head popped in, and his hands wound in the sides of Dean's flannel. He paused.</p><p>       "Will you take this off?"</p><p>       Dean looked up at him then, sudden as if Castiel had asked him to surrender his weapon, and Castiel was sure that Dean wouldn't comply. He was pleasantly surprised when Dean shrugged his shoulders back and unthreaded his arms from the shirt, downright dumbfounded when Dean reached over his head to remove his t-shirt as well before falling over Castiel, hands pressing to the mattress on either side of his shoulders.</p><p>       Castiel hooked his arms under Dean's tentatively, hands flattening against the wide, warm expanse of his back and fought the urge to curl entirely into him. Dean was pushing forward, the stretch blissfully good, Castiel's arms curling more and more around him as they came closer together. When Dean's hips settled against his, the tip of him nestled against that spot inside Castiel that made him see stars he was overwhelmed by the expanse of skin around him and inside him, the scent of gunpowder and sweat, the rasp of stubble against his shoulder.</p><p>       "Dean..."</p><p> Dean dipped down to deliver a bruising kiss, and Castiel's hands gripped the sides of Dean's head, holding him steady while he accepted the assault. Dean's teeth bit at Castiel's lips; tongue shoved into Castiel's mouth with so much force Castiel nearly choked, despite his impressive gag reflex.</p><p>       Dean didn't know another way, could only come in hot and heavy, rough and unrelenting, but Castiel was patient and pliable, taking the assault without passion or protest. Castiel was prepared for the swift departure, and then rough reentry as Dean began to move, groaning low in his chest.</p><p>       The juxtaposition from the act he'd completed with the girl and what was happening now was not lost on Castiel. His power was in bringing pleasure to others, giving respite from a chaotic world where they had no control. He made love to his girls, but it made sense that he got fucked by Dean. Dean found pleasure in control, in domination, but he also found pleasure in Castiel's consent, that an unearthly being that once had the ability to move the cosmos relented to be used this way by him.</p><p>       When the last of Castiel's angelic strength left him, so did Dean, refusing to allow him on missions only inviting him in when Dean had exhausted every other resource on strategy. Dean hadn't touched him for months when he wandered into Castiel's cabin blind drunk in the middle of the night, ripping the bedsheets off him. <em>I don't want to hurt you. Don't ever let me hurt you. </em>He'd begged as he climbed into Castiel's bed. <em>I'll kill myself, Cas. I'd rather die. </em>Dean's hand had wrapped roughly around Castiel's half-hard cock. <em>I'll die before I take anything you didn't want to give.</em></p><p>       Castiel didn't even know if Dean remembered that. He'd woken up to Dean throwing up over the side of the bed, and to Castiel's immense surprise, Dean allowed Castiel to pull him back in and get him a cool rag for his head and some water for his parched throat. Dean's visits, though still infrequent and brutal, resumed.</p><p>       The feel of the head of Dean's dick dragging over his prostate brought Castiel's mind back to the immediate present, his toes curling as an involuntary sound exploded from his throat. Dean did it again.</p><p>       And again.</p><p> And again, driving Castiel into such a state of ecstasy, he wasn't sure what he was saying anymore, catching fragments of Dean's name, broken Enochian, English expletives. Dean's pace was fevered, sweat dripping from his forehead onto Castiel's lips, and Castiel licked the salt away, opening his eyes to lock on Dean's. Dean fumbled, hooking one arm underneath Castiel's knee and replanting it on the mattress driving into him harder, and Castiel's back arched as Dean's other hand wrapped around his leaking cock. Castiel was gone in two rough strokes, his vision whiting out as his release streaked his and Dean's stomachs in hot pulses that felt like it would never end.  Dean's mouth met his hard, his balls slapping against Castiel in a blur of frantic thrusts before Dean was trying to swallow a closed mouth scream as he pressed his hips flush to Castiel's, flooding him with warmth that seeped out between them onto the sheets.</p><p>       Castiel's hands clamped on either side of Dean's face kissing him hard as he flexed around Dean's still twitching cock and the startled cry that left Dean's lips made even Castiel's tired dick take notice. Then, as if that one transgression was enough to bring down the castle, Dean's arms gave out, his body falling on top of Castiel's, face burying in Castiel's sweat slippery neck, quiet mewling sounds vibrating against Castiel's skin.</p><p>       Castiel held him tight, his head falling back in wonder, limbs trembling with aftershocks of his orgasm, heart trembling with the realization that Dean was laid bare before him, vulnerable in a way Castiel hadn't seen since before he'd lost his grace. The buzz from the moonshine was gone, the Adderall all but burnt out, and his vision held a precise clarity he'd not experienced in quite some time. The undulating chimes and whirlygigs above his bed did nothing for him, nowhere near as interesting as the push and pull of Dean's breath going from labored to steady.</p><p>       Castiel felt Dean soften inside him, slipping out wetly, and the other man braced his arms against the mattress to pull back. Castiel was reluctant to let him go but didn't attempt to hold him in place, merely let his arms slide from him and settled his hands on Dean's biceps when the other man sat back on his knees. Dean glanced at his left shoulder as if he could feel the tiny piece of Castiel's grace whispering <em>mine </em>when his fingers aligned with a scar long gone. Dean pulled back, and Castiel let him watched Dean reach down to pull up his pants, close the zipper but leave the button undone. "Will they come back?"</p><p>       Castiel was too startled by the rough sound of Dean's voice to respond. Dean's eyes fell on him, stoic as if unmoved by what they'd just done. He reached for the buckle of his belt. "The girls. Will they come back here?"</p><p>       Castiel looked around at the pillows and mats around his room. "No. They stay in the cabin next door. You know th-“</p><p>       "Good.” Dean's voice was final as he ripped the belt from the loops instead of buckling it and turned to fall back onto the bed beside Castiel.</p><p>       Castiel wondered if maybe he wasn't actually all that sober as Dean settled next to him, pulling a pillow from under Castiel's head to shove under his own. Dean closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest as if settling in for his four hours. Castiel watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.</p><p>       "What have I told you about the staring?"</p><p> "My apologies," Castiel responded, the habit resurfacing like a relic uncovered. He thought he saw Dean's lips twitch.</p><p>       They were quiet then, Castiel's bicep pressed against Dean's, the cool night air drying the sweat and semen on their skin so that Castiel felt itchy and sticky. Dean reached to scratch at his own stomach.</p><p>       "You'd tell me if I hurt you…” Dean's eyebrow had lifted though his eyes remained closed. Castiel let out a sigh.</p><p>       "Must we do this every-“</p><p>       Dean's eyes snapped open, all softness gone. "That wasn't an answer.”</p><p>       Castiel rolled his eyes, settling more against the mattress then, wiggling so that his entire side pressed against Dean's despite the disapproving look Dean gave him. "No, you did not hurt me. I'm human, like you, made of flesh and bone. Not glass. Did I hurt <em>you?"</em></p><p>       Dean grumbled, settling against the mattress again, eyes closing. "May've thrown my back out..."</p><p>       Castiel broke into a wide grin, head turning to look at Dean's profile. "My apologies.”</p><p>       This time, Dean actually smiled.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://deanwinchesterfirstofhisname.tumblr.com">Visit me on Tumblr</a>
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